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Miss Elizabeth Bennet had arrived at Netherfield Park in the morning in a state of anxiety over her dear sister Jane's health. A ride in the rain the previous day had given poor Jane a terrible cold, and the less said of her mother's nefarious schemes that were responsible, the better. Finding Jane's illness to be much worse than what Elizacould have hoped, she was much relieved when an invitation had been extended for her stay and care for her sister herself. There was not much that Elizabeth appreciated about Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst, but she could not overlook their kindness to Jane in the present circumstances.
When the sisters had taken their leave of Jane's chamber, Elizabeth had occupied herself seeing to her sister's comfort in any way she could, and by the afternoon, Jane had fallen into a fitful sleep. Elizabeth sat at her bedside, despairing over her sister's suffering, when she heard a commotion from the corridor outside.
Concern furrowing her brow, she quickly stepped outside, only to observe a most shocking scene. Four men carried an insensible Mr. Darcy down the corridor towards her. Belatedly, she noticed that the butler had thrown open the door to a bedchamber two doors down from Jane's, and thither Mr. Darcy was carried. And behind them followed a most haggard-looking Mr. Bingley. She did not interrupt him as he hurried past her, having failed to notice her in his obvious state of distress. She could heard muffled conversation from the room, but nothing more.
To say Elizabeth had had quite a shock was an understatement. If she had been her mother, she would have been tittering about her nerves by now. But to see the strong, unflappable Mr. Darcy in such a state! What could have possibly happened! She waited in the corridor with bated breath until, finally, upon inquiry from a footman, she gathered only that Mr. Darcy had fainted out on the grounds.
Oh! But fainting could signify so many things! She tried not to think of it, but she could not suppress the memory of the day when her grandmother Bennet had fainted while sitting next to an eight-year-old Jane on the pianoforte. The great lady had crumpled right before her eyes; her mother had shrieked, and the housekeeper had carried a protesting Elizabeth to the nursery. And just like that, her grandmother had departed the world.
She squeezed her hands into fists, telling herself to stop this morbid reverie. Mr. Darcy was a young man in the prime of health. Nothing of that sort could happen to him! She stood an interminable while in the corridor, unable to do anything until finally Mr. Jones, the apothecary, arrived. She felt an immediate flush of relief! Surely Mr. Jones could help.
"Where, Miss Elizabeth?"
She answered his hurried query and took him to the right door. He entered and closed the door behind him. Finding herself at a loss, Elizabeth settled herself in a nearby window seat. It seemed like a long while until Mr. Bingley emerged from the room. He had sweat upon his brow despite the November chill. She jumped from her seat and offered it to him. He sank down wordlessly and then buried his head in his hands.
Through her dread, she forced the words out.
"How is Mr. Darcy?"
In muffled tones, he replied, "He is fine."
"Fine?"
He just nodded, not looking up or giving any other indication that his friend was indeed fine.
"Mr. Bingley, I must ask for a further explanation."
Upon hearing her forced voice, the man finally looked up and seemed to finally realise his surroundings and who he was speaking to.
"Ah, Miss Elizabeth. I apologise! The scene must have distressed you. He is indeed fine! Almost... Mostly fine! He is trying to lecture the apothecary right now."
He suddenly let out a loud laugh that made her jump, whereupon he immediately buried his head back in his hands.
"It was just that... Lord, he gave me such a scare!"
Elizabeth took a deep breath and then another. Mr. Darcy was fine. Almost... Mostly fine? But fine nonetheless. He was lecturing the apothecary, of all things. Then he must indeed be fine. She tried to shake off the worries that had assaulted her since first seeing Mr. Darcy carried in such a way.
Before her, Mr. Bingley seemed to be returning to his usual humours by the second. When he finally realised that Elizabeth had given up her seat to him, he jumped up with further apologies.
Reassuring him that no apology was necessary, she asked what had befallen his friend. Further knowledge of the situation would only soothe her anxieties, she reasoned.
"We were inspecting the stableyard fence. And Darcy jumped over a wall —"
"Jumped over a wall?"
"There is a low wall in the yard; he jumped over it."
The proper Mr. Darcy, jumping over walls? She could not conjure up such an image.
"But why?"
At this M,r. Bingley gave out another loud and relieved laugh.
"The devil do I know!"
Immediately realising the impropriety of his words, he began offering another set of apologies, but Elizabeth waved them away, keen to hear the rest of the tale.
"He landed. And then he just let out a loud groan, and by the time I reached him, he was on the ground. His eyes rolled back, and then his whole body seemed to jerk, and I thought he was having a fit of some sort. But then he stilled, and we carried him here. He was awake even before Mr. Jones arrived."
"But what happened?"
"Apparently, he twisted his knee, a dislocation. He saw the unnatural angle and proceeded to set it right immediately. And then fainted from the pain of the exercise."
"So he did not have a fit?"
"No, no. Mr. Jones is convinced, and so is Darcy, that it was only a reaction to the severe pain."
"He reset his own dislocated knee?"
She could not fathom how difficult or painful such a thing could be. She had once seen a boy in the neighborhood who had fallen from a tree and dislocated a shoulder; she shuddered at even the memory of the unnatural way he had held his arm.
"He did. Jones says it's right back where it should be."
"And how does he fare now? What else did Mr. Jones say?"
"There is pain, but Darcy insists it is not too bad. Jones says he will have to rest his knee for a few weeks."
Well, that did not sound too bad. She was relieved. The pall of anxiety finally lifting. Now, she finally focused on the man in front of her instead of the one behind the door.
"You must have been shocked to see your friend in such a state," she said softly.
"Oh, for sure! It was quite a shocking thing. I did not realise he had injured himself, I thought he fainted just spontaneously!"
Her response was interrupted by Mr. Jones opening the door and calling for Mr. Bingley to join them. Elizabeth took their leave and returned to Jane's side. She slept just as she had when Elizabeth had left. It probably had not been that long since she had left, even though it had felt much longer to her.
Mr. Jones came to check on Jane before leaving and had repeated some instructions for her care. Before he could quit the room, Elizabeth had stopped him to make some of her own enquiries about Mr. Darcy. She was sorry to hear that his leg had been put in splints and would need to be rested for at least a month or two. He seemed like an active sort of man; such a prolonged period of inactivity could not come easily to him.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and so did the next. At breakfast, she gleaned from Miss Bingley that Mr. Darcy would be confined to his room. His physician from London was expected to visit soon. Both Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst seemed genuinely distressed over his misfortune, and Elizabeth could sympathise. Mr. Hurst only seemed bored. She did not see Mr. Bingley all day and hoped he was providing a diverting company to his ailing friend. Jane seemed to have marginally improved from the day before, and that night managed a comparatively restful sleep.
After breakfast the next morning, Jane insisted that Elizabeth leave her and find some amusement for herself. Smiling at her sister's kindness, Elizabeth left and, after discovering that the ladies of the house were spending the morning in the blue parlor, made her way there.
Upon entering, she found not only the ladies but the entire Netherfield party within, including, to her surprise, Mr. Darcy, who rested upon a chaise by the fire, a blanket covering his legs. After she had answered queries about Jane's state, she made her way to the fireside and politely asked Mr. Darcy how he fared.
"Quite well," was his terse response. The man seemed in a particularly ill humor this morning, but Elizabeth was willing to forgive him at present. She would have made some other polite enquiry if Miss Bingley, who sat primly in a chair near Mr. Darcy's head, hadn't immediately jumped in.
"Oh, he prevaricates. He must be in a great deal of pain after such an ordeal as that! I cannot imagine how he is handling it so well."
Mr. Darcy scowled at this pronouncement, which Elizabeth could easily see was not at all to his liking. She had to bite her lip from smiling, realising he had more than one reason for his sour mood if Miss Bingley had been his constant companion all morning. She was now asking Mrs. Hurst if the already roaring fire should be built up, lest Mr. Darcy be cold.
"Miss Bennet, won't you take a seat?"
Mr. Darcy's sudden interruption silenced Miss Bingley briefly, which Elizabeth gathered must have been his goal. He indicated a chair opposite the chaise, and with a small smile, she sat. But Caroline Bingley could not stay silent long. Repeated queries about his comfort were interspersed with remarks exchanged with her sister over how best to care for him. Elizabeth had opened the book she had borrowed from the Netherfield library the day before, but could not ignore Caroline's shrill voice. She looked at Mr. Darcy, who was now staring into the fire, looking quite miserable if anything. She glanced around the room. Mr. Hurst had fallen asleep on a sofa by the window, and Mr. Bingley was working on some letters at the other end of the room. Was there noone who could come to Mr. Darcy's rescue?
Apropos of nothing, she declared, "Shall I read aloud?"
She could see Miss Bingley's refusal on the tip of her tongue, but Mr. Darcy beat her to it.
"Excellent idea. What are you reading? Ah... Shakespeare. Please proceed."
Elizabeth read aloud to her family often enough and hence did not at all mind providing this distraction. She began reading and ignored Miss Bingley's barely veiled disapproval at the attention with which Mr. Darcy had now set his eyes upon Elizabeth. Ignoring her surroundings, Elizabeth only focused on the text before her and soon lost herself in the words she spoke aloud. She had quite lost track of time as she often did when reading, until Miss Bingley suddenly spoke up as she reached a chapter break.
"Excellent, Miss Eliza! But you must be parched after speaking so long. Please do not exert yourself on our account."
Elizabeth was about to protest in the politest possible manner when Mr. Darcy spoke up.
"Thank you, Miss Bennet. That was indeed very enjoyable. I shall continue."
He raised his hand for the book expectantly. He wasn't able to fully conceal a hint of desperation in his eyes. She couldn't help but smile at him as she rose and gave him the book, and pointed to where she had left off.
"Miss Bingley, please ask for tea for Miss Bennet; she indeed must be parched."
Elizabeth would have protested at this pronouncement as well, for really she was quite adept at reading aloud for much longer than this, but realised Mr. Darcy's objective in time and bit her tongue. For to fulfil his request, Miss Bingley had to quit her seat and speak to a servant.
Once she left, Mr. Darcy quickly turned around to survey the room.
"Where is Bingley?"
Elizabeth looked around as well. Mr. and Mrs. Hurst seemed to be in some private conversation on the distant sofa, but Mr. Bingley had quit the room without her noticing.
"He should be back soon," Elizabeth replied reassuringly.
Mr. Darcy then suddenly looked embarrassed.
"Yes, of course."
He really looked like a disappointed child at not having found his friend in the room at the time of his need. He looked at the book in his hands disinterestedly, with clearly no intention of reading it aloud at present.
"So, Mr. Darcy..."
She began in a purposeful voice and waited for him to look up, which he did with a somewhat bemused expression.
"I heard you tried jumping over a wall."
For a moment, he paused. And then a sudden laugh burst forth from him, and she realised she had never before seen him laugh. What a shame, for it quite became him.
"I did not just try, Miss Elizabeth, I did jump over a wall."
"Was it a resounding success then?"
He let out another laugh, a short one this time. Indeed, he looked so very handsome with such a wide smile upon his face. Had noone told him? Or would the likes of Miss Bingley become unbearable if he were to unleash such powers upon them?
She smiled at her private joke and watched as he shook his head and said, "Well, I did jump over the wall, so it was not abject failure either."
Here was his pride again, he could not accept his own fault even in a jest.
"Are you satisfied with the outcome then?"
Her question was purposefully impertinent, but his manner did not change as he answered.
"Well... I did make myself look an absolute idiot and scared Bingley half to death. So, no, I am not at all satisfied."
These words were so against Elizabeth's observation from just moments before that she was taken aback. He had openly declared himself an idiot and that too pretty sincerely!
Miss Bingley returned just then, pausing this unexpectedly pleasant and revealing tete-a-tete.
"Tea shall be here shortly," she announced as she took a seat. Taking a note of the closed book in Mr. Darcy's hand, she asked, "Oh, you've changed your mind about reading?"
She could not fully hide the hopefulness in her voice. But Mr. Darcy immediately opened the book and said, "Indeed not, we were just waiting for your return."
Elizabeth suppressed her smile at this obvious deception. She quietly stood and helped him leaf through to the right page, and pointed to the right passage.
"There", she said.
His fingers reached up to the passage she was pointing to and lightly brushed hers before she moved her hand away hurriedly. It had been the briefest of touches, but still the warmth of his fingers had shot through her like a current. She looked up, just as he did. Their eyes met, and his gaze was intense as it always was, but never had she been its subject from such close quarters.
"Thank you."
His voice broke the spell. She straightened up and moved to her seat. And he began to read. A good laugh, a handsome visage, an ability to self-deprecate... and now, a good reading voice. Mr. Darcy's list of acceptable... nay, appreciable qualities was growing at an unpardonable speed. She shook the thought out of her head and tried to focus only on the words she heard and not on the man speaking them. From the corner of her eye, she saw Miss Bingley trying valiantly to stifle a yawn and had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. The tea tray arrived, and she and Miss Bingley both took a cup, while Mr. Darcy continued to read. She imagined listening to him read would not be a bad way to spend a winter evening by the hearth.
When a good while later, Mr. Darcy paused to clear his throat, Miss Bingley ceased her chance at once, declaring his need to rest his voice and immediately trying to push a tea cup into his hands. Elizabeth watched as he reluctantly began to relinquish the book in order to hold the proffered cup.
"Perhaps I can continue now."
Both Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley turned to her together, one in guarded relief and the other in absolute disbelief.
"An excellent notion," Mr. Darcy replied after just a moment's hesitation.
Elizabeth stood, and the book passed back from his hand to hers. She tried her best not to look at Miss Bingley, lest she let out a laugh at her stricken expression. She resumed her reading, and this time, after emptying his tea cup, Mr. Darcy lay back on the cushions and closed his eyes. Miss Bingley did not even try to hide her yawn this time. Eventually, it was Mr. Bingley's return that broke up the gathering.
Vexing Miss Bingley and reading Shakespeare had been a better way of spending the morning than she could have expected, but she had left Jane for too long. As the other members of the household discussed luncheon, she rose and handed the book to Mr. Darcy. The poor man should have some reading materials to while away the long day ahead.
He looked up at her most gratefully then, "Thank you. You read very well."
She blushed at his direct compliment, but managed to say, "So do you."
His gaze lingered, or perhaps it was she who did. Eventually, she took her leave from everyone and returned to Jane's side. She filled the retelling of her morning activities with exaggerated silliness to make her sister laugh, but what she did not speak of was the man who most occupied her thoughts throughout the day.